Metamorphose
by Courtanie
Summary: Kenny's death leaves Kyle unprepared and penniless. He struggles to make money however he can, getting help from the most unexpected of people along the way in more ways than monetary gain. M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Basis for this story was pitched to me by Kg947 :)_

_We'll see how it goes :) _

_Enjoy~_

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I really thought that it was nothing. That everything would just fall back into normalcy like I had grown so accustomed to.

I watched him fall. I watched him, and knew I couldn't do anything about it. There are some things that are just beyond our control. I could hear him as he impacted at the bottom of the cliff we were standing on at the time, doing nothing but closing my eyes and sighing.

"_He's getting more supportive shoes when he comes back." _I had thought. But that was it. I turned around and walked home in silence.

I sat down in our living room, sitting on our couch and listening to the steady ticking of the clock on our wall. Marking away the seconds, beating away what would otherwise be a deafening air of nothingness. This was what I was expected to do...what I _wanted _to do.

I wanted to wait.

So I did.

Days passed. And nothing came to light.

Stan came by, trying to get me to go somewhere to eat, trying to make me go to my bed to sleep. But I couldn't. I needed to wait. After all, he could be on his way home any minute. He could burst into the room with the biggest smile on his face only to realize that I had left.

He liked me being there for him. He liked being here for me.

But that was months ago. Months of sitting and waiting had to come to a stop. Bills were piling, the phone calls were getting more frequent and the callers more agitated with my negligence to pay up.

But I was trapped.

We hadn't even _considered _getting life insurance policies for ourselves. He was seemingly immortal...and I never left the house except to go buy our food or whenever we wanted to go out together. And he would always protect me from whatever seemingly impossible object would try to claim his life. We figured that we were safe; that we were secure.

After all, Ken was making just enough for us to get by working construction on the new neighborhood they were implanting downtown. We didn't need much. A small, one-story home with ourselves and a few meager possessions to call our own. His pick-up truck was reliable enough to keep around and he'd nearly paid it off before his accident. We didn't think about saving, we didn't think about anything but surviving. We were 21 and 20, we didn't think about the after affects.

I'm still 20 I guess, I don't know what to consider him anymore, though.

Today, though, all I can think of is how utterly stupid we were. Especially me. I was always the one thinking ahead, planning everything through...but I guess things just seemed good enough for me to find solace in what we had. I thought we had the entire future of the world ahead of us with the direction we were headed. He was working, I was keeping our house together, keeping things in line between us and our friends, making sure everything was ready for us the next day. He didn't want me to work, he said I didn't need to, that he wanted to be the one taking care of me. At the time, it was sweet. Now however...it was blind.

We were immature for people our age, dancing around reality as though it were our plaything.

Now it's come back to slap me in the face in the form of mortgage payments, utility bills, car payments, our credit card debt...it's all piling on top of me in a mass of 'Final Statement' stamped envelopes.

My friends are struggling enough to keep their own heads above water and I just can't ask them for the help. My pride won't allow it. My parents left Colorado years ago and I haven't spoken to them since Ken and I started seeing each other. I have no one to run to, I'm not sure of what to do. Ken's final paycheck should be enough to pay off the bills I have stacked on our kitchen table...but what about next month? The month after? What about food?

...I just don't know what to do.

I look over at a picture of myself and Kenny he took a few months ago. He looked so happy..._I_ looked so happy. And I was. But that time's long gone now with his stumbling off of the edge of the Earth. Now I'm alone. I'm alone, broke, and jobless.

I look down at the newspaper in my hand, the classified section spewed out in front of me. This is my last issue of the paper since my bill's due, so I'll have to make it count. I scan through and circle a few different options with the vibrant orange highlighter in my hand.

Things aren't going to be the same anymore; I don't have Ken to lean on for my protection. I can hear the ticking of my clock beating away the seconds and take a large breath. It's overwhelming, hearing it as though it hasn't realized that nothing is the same anymore. It doesn't realize that it's not here for me as I wait anymore. It's here for me to remember that time is actually going by, that it isn't just going to stand still as Kenny and I thought that it would.

The world doesn't stop for fools, and fools are blinded by the ignorance that they have the chance to make things always work in their favor and get time to halt for themselves.

Call me a fool, call Kenny ignorant. We lived all that we could, but it's time to move on. My pace is set to match that of the clock on my wall.

Tick tock, tick tock. Work live, hope fight.

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_A/N: worst beginning ever =_=_

_oh well. Thanks for R&Ring anyways :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Um...yup :)_

_Just so everyone knows...I just turned 18 a few months ago and don't really have the pleasure of bill payments yet...sooo if I sound like a retard and don't really make sense along the lines of this story...I'm sorry xD_

_Chapters now will increase in length, yayy_

_Enjoy_

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No luck. Absolutely nothing is working right now.

It seems that not too many places are adamant on hiring a twenty year old with no job experience and only a year-long experimental time in college with only basic classes taken.

I can't exactly say I blame them, but then again I didn't think that you needed an education to be a driver for the limo company on the outskirts of town.

Everyplace I applied for, I got the same result: an apologetic phone call or email that can all be summed up with the phrase 'fuck off'. Upon hindsight, part of me wishes that I had told these callers that same phrase. But I guess I was just too upset to really consider doing so at the time. A long time ago, I would have been mortified at the idea of being a secretary for any business, but I would have gladly jumped at the chance if I'd gotten a callback.

I guess I'm truly desperate.

I'm walking down through South Park now, looking back and forth for 'help wanted' signs. I'm coming up short. This town is fairly populated for its size and most people have more help than they need already.

The faint smell of burgers hits my nose and my stomach lets out a long winded growl. I stop and look up, finding that I'm in front of Loo Loo's, the restaurant that Butters opened when he turned seventeen with his parent's help. They wanted him to do more with himself so he decided to start his own business. We all thought he was stupid as hell at the time but he's held onto it pretty strongly, so I can't say that I don't envy the guy.

I pull out my wallet and open it up. I have six bucks in cash. If I remember correctly, that's enough for a sandwich and a soda. But I'm not sure...I haven't been here since it opened. Kenny couldn't stand Butters. Too naive for him or something. I'm pretty sure it was because I was always nice to Butters for the most part though and he felt jealous. I feel my lips curling into a reminiscent smile before turning and pushing my way through the glass door.

"H-Hey there, Kyle!" Butters waves from the counter. I look around, finding the place just barely alive with about three nameless groups spread out around the joint.

I look back at him and smile as best as I can muster, "Hey, Butters."

"Just sit wherever ya like," he nods. "Someone-someone'll be with ya in a minute."

"Thanks," I nod again, heading over towards the corner booth over by the window. I grab the menu beside me and flip it open, scanning through for the cheapest meal. A turkey sandwich is the best I can find for $3.50. And Butters only charges a buck for sodas...Things look a lot more expensive when you're hanging onto every penny.

"Hey, Sugar," someone says, I look up and find myself staring at a girl with rust-colored hair and bright blue eyes.

I raise my brow, "I know you from somewhere," I state stupidly.

She tilts her head and giggles, "Name's Lexus."

A light flickers in my head and I nod, "Ohh, you were a Rasin's girl."

"Yup. But once you turn ten, ugh, forget about it," she rolls her eyes. "Butters is a sweetie and gave me a job here," she smiles. "So, what can I get for ya, Babe?"

"Diet Coke and a turkey sandwich please," I say softly. She jots it down and nods quickly, taking my menu.

"That all for ya, Hon?"

"Butters isn't...hiring by any chance is he?" I ask with a wince.

She shakes her head. "Nope. Sorry, Honey, but he's got a full staff on hand. Someone just asked me yesterday," she shrugs. "I'm sorry."

I smile sadly, "Not your fault. Thanks, though."

"No prob, Sweetheart," she says. "I'll get this to ya in a few minutes, okay?"

"Thanks," I nod, watching as she walks away and turning my attention over towards the window.

Things aren't going well. Not at all.

Something slides into my arm and I look over to see a Coke glass against me. I look up and find Butters smiling at me sadly. "It's all on the house," he nods.

My face drops and I shake my head. "Butters, no, don't do that."

"Now, Kyle, now this is my restaurant s-so it's my decision. I know things are hard without...," he trails off, his turquoise eyes getting sadder.

"Kenny," I finish quietly. "But that doesn't mean you need to take a loss on my account. I have enough money to pay for it, so I will."

"Your money's no good here," he says firmly. "Now, now you just save that there money for when you really need to use it, understand?"

I feel a tightening in my chest but force myself to smile up at him. "Thank you, Butters. Seriously...thank you."

He smiles again and reaches into the booth, giving me a quick hug, which I return awkwardly. "You know that you're always good to have a free meal here, Kyle," he backs up and winks. "Now I gotta work, but you enjoy your meal, a-alright? And don't even think about payin'!"

"Well I'm tipping Lexus whether you want me to or not," I say dryly.

"No you aren't!" she calls from another table. We look over and she winks her heavily shaded pink lid at me before strutting off to the kitchen.

Butters laughs and shakes his head. "Told ya, your money ain't good here. Sit and relax, will ya? You're tense as heck."

I nod slowly. "Yeah...thanks, Man."

"No problem," he smiles, following Lexus into the kitchen. I watch him and start stirring my straw around in my soda. So now I'm the town's charity case. Wonderful. Hell, I didn't even know that people knew what had happened to Kenny, let alone they all knew that I was in financial trouble. I take a long sip of my Coke and sigh heavily. I hate being like this, I don't want everyone to pity me. Unless that pity lands me a job, in which case I'm all for it.

The front door's bells jingle and I hear a familiar toddler's voice yammering away aimlessly. I look over and see Stan, Wendy, and their daughter Samantha walking into the restaurant. Sam looks at me almost automatically and breaks into a huge smile.

"Uncle Kyle!" she cries out, running towards me as fast as her three year old legs can carry her. Stan and Wendy follow her vision and smile at me, heading over as Sam clambers into the booth beside me.

"Hey there, Sammy," I smile. She clasps me in a hug and I return it, watching as her parents make their way over.

"Hey, Dude," Stan greets.

"Hey yourself," I smirk. "Hey, Wendy."

"Hi, Babe," she grins back. "Mind if we sit with you?"

"You really have to ask?" I raise my brow.

She shrugs. "Trying to teach my daughter courtesy since her father still likes tripping people in the hallways and laughing at them," she glares at Stan briefly.

"Well I _was_ gonna offer you the seat across from Kyle, but now I'm taking it," he sticks his tongue out and slides into the booth. Wendy scoffs but then chuckles and slides in next to him.

Sammy lets go of me and sits down, bouncing excitedly. "I wanna hot dog!" she proclaims.

Wendy sighs and shakes her head. "This vegetarian thing isn't working for her," she says softly.

"My daughter needs her protein so she can play softball one day," Stan smirks.

"Hey, Stan, Wendy!" Butters calls as he emerges from the kitchen. "Usuals?"

"Yeah, thanks, Butters!" he calls back. The blonde nods and heads back into the kitchen and Stan turns and looks at me with Wendy.

"How are you doing, Kyle?" Wendy asks quietly.

I shrug. "I'm...here," I state. "Not great but...I'm looking for work. No one wants to hire me...but I'm sure I'll find something before my house is foreclosed." I shut my eyes and my heart lurches at that word. I can't imagine losing mine and Ken's house along with everything else that I have. I open my eyes again and find Stan and Wendy looking at me in concern and awkwardly clear my throat. "How's the Marsh household?" I smile weakly.

"We're...we're doin' great," Stan nods.

"Just trying to hold things down between work and her," Wendy adds, nodding to Sam who's started coloring on the back of a paper place mat.

"That's good," I say with a smile. They deserve for things to be great. After Wendy got pregnant when she was eighteen, both of them thought that everything was going to fall apart. I truly couldn't be happier that they're doing okay.

Lexus comes over and distributes their drinks, breaking up the awkward tension for a moment, which I couldn't be more grateful for. As she walks away, Stan stirs his Coke around and stares at me carefully.

"What?" I blink.

"Nothing," he shakes his head, taking a large sip. I watch him for a moment before looking down at Samantha, who's sticking her tongue out in concentration as she doodles on the mat.

"Whatcha drawin', Sam?" I ask.

"Flowers," she smiles at me before looking back at her picture.

I chuckle and look up at Wendy, "She's got your hippie genes, Wends."

She smirks and shakes her head. "I oughta punch you for that, Broflovski."

"I'm just sayin' she's got your free spirit is all," I shrug innocently.

She rolls her eyes and sighs. "God, Cartman," she laughs shortly. "He still calls me a hippie. I'm not nearly as proactive about causes as I used to be."

"Well, you became a little more proactive on diaper changes," I chuckle.

Stan nods and laughs, "I think he's forgotten all our first names since he went on and started architecting."

"Kenny told me he still called him Poor boy all the time," I say softly. "You'd think he'd change with the rest of us."

"Well, he's not trying to kill you anymore," Wendy points out. "That's a good thing...right?"

"We still hate each other, Wendy," I say dryly. "He came over to our house once to discuss floor plans with Kenny and before I know it we're screaming at each other again. Ken had to lock me in our room for awhile so he didn't get fired," I blush and rub my forehead.

Stan breaks out into laughter and shakes his head. "Well, he's still a Nazi asshole like he was way back when, but he's not as apt to lead people down the street with propaganda."

"That's only because he knows he's an adult now and would be tried as one," I roll my eyes, taking another sip of cola.

After a few moments of silence, Wendy sighs and looks over at me. "Kyle, Babe, can I ask you a question?"

"I know you, Wendy. Even if I say no, you would."

She smiles, "That's true. Hon, have you...thought about a...memorial for Ken?"

We stare at each other for a moment and my shoulders drop as I look down at my bubbling soda and take a large breath. "No. I haven't."

"Well...maybe you should," she says carefully. "I mean...it's been...a good few months."

"He's coming back," I mutter.

"Kyle," Stan starts, "You can't keep think-"

"HE'S COMING BACK!" I raise my voice at him angrily. They stare at me and I look over and see Sammy looking like she's about to cry as she watches me. I gulp, reaching down and picking her up, sitting her on my lap and bouncing her softly. "I have to keep thinking he is," I say softly.

"Ky," Stan says softly, "The sooner you accept things...the easier it'll be for you to move on."

"I don't want to move on," I look up at him with stinging eyes. "He always promised me that he'd be back...he can't be gone. Not now..." I shake my head.

Wendy gets up and moves over to Sam's empty spot and wraps her arm around my shoulder. "Sweetie, this isn't healthy," she says softly, stroking my hair maternally. Sam turns and hugs me, nuzzling her face into my shirt. "Ken...he loved you and you know that. Everyone knew that."

"Then why would he leave for good?" I say blankly.

"Fate chose him," she shrugs. "It'll be okay," she kisses my head.

"Mama?" Samantha says, raising her head from my shirt. "I gots to potty."

We all look at her and have to break into laughs at her uncanny ability to change subjects at the right time. "Okay, Hon," Wendy says, kissing me again before grabbing Sam and hefting her off my lap, toting her to the bathroom. Stan and I watch them before looking back at each other. He looks worried.

"Dude...why is this so hard for you?" he asks. "I know you loved him...but you've always been...pretty accepting of life being harsh on ya," he shrugs.

I swallow and look out the window, watching some snowflakes dancing in the wind. "I was going through our room a few nights ago. Hoping maybe he had some cash stashed somewhere for emergencies."

"Did you find any?" Hope rises in his voice.

I look at him and shake my head. I reach down into my pocket and pull something out, "I found this." He holds out his hand and I give it to him.

He stares at it before looking back up at me, "A ring."

I nod. "There was a note, too. Well...more like a practice page," I laugh. "He...he was gonna propose to me...pretty soon after he died," my face drops. "He'd been saving all the extra money he'd earned beforehand for that ring. He bought it literally days before he fell..." I look away and shake my head. "He was waiting for me, too. He knew I wasn't ready to get married before we'd been dating a long time. Three years is a pretty good amount of time before proposing," I sniff softly. "If he was that patient with me..." I look back up at my best friend who's staring at me with shining eyes, "how can I just give up on him?"

Stan's shoulders drop and he looks at the ring in his fingers, biting his lip. "I...I don't know what to say, Ky. I really don't."

"You don't have to say anything," I murmur, taking the ring back and clasping it in my hand. "Just don't tell me that waiting is pointless."

"I won't," he places his hand on my arm and squeezes gently. I look up at him and smile and he returns it before looking at me thoughtfully.

"What?" I ask.

"It's not much...in fact it's barely anything," he says tiredly. "But...there's a small opening down at the bar."

My eyes widen and I stare at him. "Are you serious?" I whisper.

He smirks. "Hey, you're my best bud. I'm not gonna leave you hanging out to dry just so you can lose everything."

I bite my lip and smile widely. "Really?" I say stupidly.

He chuckles, "Yeah, but um...I have to warn you...it's not much," he winces.

"How much is it?" I ask.

"Well, we tend to have ya know, girls walking around as waitresses and showing off their cleavage and crap because then more guys stick around and buy more then."

"Wendy must be proud," I raise my brow.

"Just like my mom was when Dad opened the place," he chuckles. "One of our nighttime waitresses quit on us. I need a replacement."

I stare at him a moment and raise my brow. "I'm...I'm not dressing up like a girl."

He laughs, "No, you're not. But if you could wait and bus tables...at least you'd have a paycheck. I can only afford to pay you minimum wage though. And the hours will probably be killer, plus it'd only be like, four nights a week."

"Not like I'm doing anything anyways," I say quietly. "Stan...you have no idea how much I appreciate this."

"Hey, what are best friends for?" he smiles lopsidedly. "Start tonight?"

I nod frantically. "What time?"

"Be there at 7:00. But Kyle, seriously, be careful."

I cock my brow. "Why?"

He rolls his eyes. "You idiot, you're only twenty, you're technically not old enough to work in the bar."

I blink. "Oh yeah."

"Few more months and you're legal but it's fairly obvious to me that you can't wait that long before getting some work. If anything, this'll just keep your head above water before you can get a real job on your hands."

I smile at him and nod, "My lips are sealed, Dude." We clap our hands together and shake, grinning at each other. Sam and Wendy come back and Wendy's eyes land on us. She shoots Stan a smile of approval and I feel my heart lurch again, but this time with a twinge of gratefulness.

I'm not out for the count just yet.

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_A/N: Why does Butters have a restaurant? Iono. Because I want a restaurant named Loo Loo's, that's why._

_Yup, this story's a rollin now :D_

_Thanks for R&Ring!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry for the wait_

_Enjoy!_

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To say the very least, I have a whole new type of appreciation for the whole 'be careful what you wish for' concept.

Stan is my best friend, he's practically my brother. He's my knight in shining armor at this point for just handing me a job, but I have to say that I'm still somewhat pining for that secretary job.

Learning the ropes around Sparky's Bar wasn't hard in the least. Serve them this, don't screw up that, and of course, don't punch the customers in the face.

That's becoming the hardest rule, I'm coming to find.

For the first few days, it went fairly smoothly. It was just me walking around serving drinks, no real problems arising. It was a bit stressful dealing with the drunkards that refused to leave, but I suppose that was just to be expected.

But then the men that crowded around the bar learned that I wasn't just there for a few days of helping out; I was actually a hire.

Now all I can do is stand around and be humiliated by the morons that surround me. There's one table in particular that I just can't fucking stand. Stan does what he can to get them to leave me alone, but he told me that their constant drinking helps pay the electricity of the place so he can't just kick them out. I understand that to an extent but I know if anyone treated me like this outside of where he works, he'd kick their ass for me in an instant.

Oh how the workforce changes people.

Tonight it's me and some other girly-bimbo waitress serving the assholes of the place. I'm stuck with the group of guys that I can't stand unfortunately while she bats her eyes at the younger guys around the tables while I cover the booths lining the walls.

I finish taking two younger guy's orders, scribbling down notes as I walk towards the bar and hand Stan the paper.

He sends me a smile, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I nod.

"Hey, pretty boy!" I hear from behind me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I open them again to a sympathetic expression from my best friend.

"If it makes you feel any better, they think you're better than any of the girls."

"Wonderful," I scoff. "Let me print that on a t-shirt and flaunt it."

"Pretty boy, we're talkin' to you!" One of the men shouts louder. I groan before turning and walking over towards the back corner booth towards a group of four men that I've grown to loathe.

"Yes?" I ask impatiently.

"Whoa there, Pretty," one of them raises their brow. "Not very friendly of you."

"It's a bar and I'm not allowed to drink," I frown. "Why should I be the friendly one?"

The man who I've determined to be their leader leans his chin in his palm and stares up at me. "Fiery, ain't ya?"

I refuse to dignify that with a response.

"Look, did you need more to drink or something?" I ask impatiently. "Or did you just call me over here to piss me off?"

They break into slurred laughter and I can feel my face burning from my anger at these drunkards. I clench my fists and move to turn away before one of them grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls me back a bit. I turn around and see them looking at me with pathetic expressions and can feel my stomach lurching.

"What?" I blink.

"Dontcha wanna stay and talk with us, Pretty?" one of them with dark brown hair pouts.

"Not particularly," I mutter, grabbing my shirt. "And let go of me."

"Aww, come on," the one keeping my shirt hostage says. He scoots into the booth and I find myself pulled down onto the seat. I yelp as my elbow hits the table and look up to find him staring down on me. "You're a fag, ain't ya? You should be humbled to be able to speak to us."

Oh fucking wonderful.

"I can do better, thanks," I growl through gritted teeth before shoving him off of me and standing up, dusting my shirt off.

My arm is grabbed and I'm whipped around, my upper torso across their table as they stare at me. My eyes flicker around towards them and my breathing increases slightly. The leader with blonde hair and hazel eyes leans in towards me, a curious look about his face as he stares. I sneer and back up away, grabbing the edge of the table with my free arm and trying my best to pull away.

"Ya know, Pretty," he says slowly, each word dripping with the scent of his overpriced beer. "Most people kill for this attention."

"Don't fucking tempt me," I snap, ripping my arm away from one of his buddies and falling back slightly. I feel strong hands on my shoulders and they squeeze my skin lightly. I feel my heart lift for a brief moment, breaking into a small smile before turning around and seeing Stan behind me.

My heart's dropping again.

"Touch him again and you're never coming back, understand me?" he says towards the men darkly. I can't help but feel my stomach twist at his words. Stan really shouldn't be the one defending me. I can do this on my own. I do everything on my own now...

This is too fucking much.

The men just turn back to their beers, not another word as their eyes look in mine before Stan turns me and starts pushing me towards the bar. The bar returns to its normal pacing as he steps in front of me and stares at me with his hands still clasped over my shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I state. "I was fine the whole time. They just caught me off guard that's all. Next time I'll remember to stab them with my pen," I pull it out of my pocket, clicking it and forcing a sheepish grin across my face.

He stares at me uncertainly before nodding. "Alright, but look, go take your break or just step out a few minutes, okay?"

I'm about to reject his offer before I feel him squeeze my shoulders again and bite the inside of my lip. I nod and he smiles back softly, patting my shoulders before turning to go resume training the newest bartender. I blink, glancing over my shoulder and seeing the group of men still staring at me. I growl and storm out through the kitchen and push my way out the back door, meeting a cool gust of wind with some spare snowflakes wafting around. I brush my hair back and sigh before walking over next to the dumpster in the back of the alley behind the bar and plopping down next to it.

I curl my knees up into my chest and rest my chin atop them, watching some flakes dancing across my feet and feeling my morale sinking by the minute.

His hands...they felt just like the hands I've wanted back for so long. They were there right when I needed him, just like he was. He grabbed my shoulders...just like he would have if I had needed him...

I find myself sniffling and quickly shake away my all-too-quickly gathering emotions. I clench my fists to try to de-stress myself a bit.

To say the least, it isn't working all too well.

I look up at the sky and see some birds flittering around each other and my heart sinks further.

I'm twenty years old. I have no college education, nor do I have the money to pursue one. I work in my best friend's bar from mere pity and I'm felt up by middle-aged drunkards during each of my shifts now.

I lost the love of my life; the man who was going to be my husband before fate decided to spit in my face and take him away from me. I haven't spoken to my family in years and have no one to turn to as I find everything starting to spiral out of control.

I have nothing to my name anymore.

I want Kenny back. I _need_ him back.

Minimum wage is great for a kid still living off his parent's bill payments...but I don't have that luxury anymore. Kenny's income kept us both up and running but now...now every penny of what I'll make will go towards bills. That's not including food or anything basic like that that I can physically hold.

But it's so much more than that. I could deal without the money, we'd find a way to make it from the ground up. The old me would've been able to do that on my own in no time. But now I've become so...dependent on Kenny. Not just financially, but he kept me together constantly. Dealing with my parents abandoning me, helping me through being lonely when he died when he'd make up for it upon his return...

Telling me that he'd give me the opportunity to finally reach for my own dreams since I didn't the first time around.

Because we didn't have the money.

I close my eyes and hide them in my arms, fighting off my waning tears. I need him now more than I ever have. Fuck the money, fuck being able to afford food...I just need his arms. I need him to tell me that everything will be all right, that he'll be right there with me until the end.

All I hear is the wind gusting around me frantically, nothing but cold surrounding me in this cold, darkened alley. Unfortunately, I think this has become my one place of comfort.

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_A/N: To answer many questions, yes, this will be CK eventually._

_I have it planned out and right now it's lookin' pretty lengthy. Not like, Possession bad because all the chapters will be about this length, but still xD_

_It'll get there one day :)_

_thanks for R&Ring!_


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